Chapter Twenty-Four
Listless Love
It was midday.
Wait, no, it was late afternoon.
Of the third day since he arrived at the mansion…
The fourth day…
It couldn't be the fifth.
No… not the fifth…
The sixth… day.
Not that it mattered.
Light was hungry.
L would bring in food for him at the [he assumed] usual meal times, but Light tried hard not to acknowledge L when he did so, for it would only encourage him to, Light did not know, hope.
When he could ignore the temptation of food no longer, he ate. He did not enjoy it. He did not even pay attention to what he ate. He just did.
He didn't want to eat it, and doing so sometimes felt like a sin, and it was if L knew all that he did and was punishing him by feeding him, but he ate it to make his hunger pains stop screaming at him.
The food did not stop the other screams, sadly.
How droll.
Right now his head was silent but for hunger he could not ignore.
It was beautiful, the way it did that. Evil in another way.
It stopped him from focusing on why he was here, what he did, and why he should be suffering.
That was no good…
He was hungry.
And there was no L waiting with a tray full of food.
There was no L at all.
He was gone.
Not gone gone, Light thinks. Just temporarily gone. But there was no telling when he would be back.
L does that. He leaves and returns. Not ever is he gone for long, Light thinks, and when he was gone, and he had no idea where he went.
Not that he cared.
Light kind of liked it when he went. It allowed him to be alone, which was just what he wanted, so he could curl up and be the pathetic excuse for a man that he was, allowing guilt and pain to rush through him almost endlessly.
It was a relief.
That's not quite the right word for it.
Is there a right word for anything?
Shut up.
As much as Light didn't want L near him, part of him cried like a wounded animal when L left his side.
The weak part in him that still thought being alone was not for the better. The part that mourned Ryuzaki. Needed Ryuzaki. Craved him.
But Ryuzaki was not real.
Food was. And it was fucking lunch time.
No.
It was dinner time.
Lunch.
Din… ner…
… Meal time.
And there was no L waiting with a tray full of food.
Which was a problem.
He was hungry.
So for the first time in however many days, Light decided to explore the mansion-building-thing beyond this bedroom and find food.
At first when he came here he stayed where he was, on the bed. Then nature called and he gave in and managed to find the will to bother with the en suite bathroom. L had been there and had watched him as he moved like a hawk from the bed.
Walking had been hard and his body had ached, but he bore all that at least silently.
L allowed Light to be alone in the bathroom (the first time he had been allowed to be alone consciously), but Light noticed there was no lock on the door, making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside about the level of trust that man had for him.
Beyond that Light didn't do much. He would lie in the bed, consumed with his thoughts and feelings that he could no longer repress or express. L would stay at his side, sometimes working on a laptop or other times watching Light and try to coax a response out of him. It must be like a game for him.
The coaxing would be anything from spooning him and speaking to him softly, telling him stories that had really nothing to do with anything (though they probably had something to do with everything since this was the great and all powerful L, wizard of Oz), to sitting Light up and speaking sternly, demanding Light to look him in the eyes.
Light once gave in and did as he was told, fixing his gaze on L's. They stared at each other silently for some time before L drew Light in and gave him a hug, tucking Light's head into the crook of his neck.
L probably was reeling in the glory of his win, and couldn't wait until he played again.
Light felt like he was a broken toy that L, the world's greatest detective, was trying to fix.
Or like a baby L felt responsible for. Something he had to coddle and care for, because he felt some sort of responsibility or something.
Light felt useless.
And he was.
He was.
Maybe he could at least find some fucking food.
The hallway outside the bedroom had a thick plush carpet. Light could feel it underneath his feet.
His progress was slow at first. He walked one step after the other, taking care to stabilize himself between each.
His mind was swirling around, and if he did not know for sure that he was on land, he would have thought he was on a boat at sea.
It's a bit sad really.
The only boats he has ever been on have been the water buses and tourist boats of Tokyo. He never took the time to enjoy the ride, as he was always busy doing one thing or another while on them, like tailing a suspect or investigating a case.
He has barely ever left Tokyo.
How sad is that?
Great worldly Light. Self-educated high school drop out genius killer.
Once he remembers going to a beach somewhere in Southern Japan. Maybe one of the islands, he wasn't sure. He had been young and happy and foolish, not caring where he was beyond a beach with sand and water.
It had been a family vacation with both his mom and dad. His father spent the day fishing while wearing the most ridiculous sun hat, and he had been too young and impatient to stay by his side, so he spent the day with his mother.
She bought him ice cream, bathed in the sun on the beach as he played in the water, and helped him build a sandcastle. It was one of the best days. How could he have forgotten about it until now?
Good memories of his mother seemed to have faded, but there had to be more, right?
She had been his mother…
Why would he want them?
Three years after that trip she stabbed his father to death.
He did not want them.
Light felt sick.
He was at the end of the hallway now, away from his room. He wanted to run back and throw up in the bathroom until there was nothing left.
Was he even hungry anymore?
No… he was.
He had come this far.
Giving up now would be a sign of weakness.
But he was weak.
No… he was weak but not entirely weak. He had been scorned by Ryuzaki. Told he was not good enough. Not worthy. Ryuzaki was L.
It was possible that his words were a lie, but which words did he speak were lies and which were truths?
He would never be good enough for L.
He would never know with L.
But he would rather be dammed to hell, which he already probably was, if he gave in and let L think he thought he was not good enough.
Was he fighting for something now? Refusing to look weak in front of Ryuzaki?
Ryuzaki was L.
No, he was not refusing to look weak. That ship had sailed the moment he begged for L to leave him alone.
He was fighting for something. He was refusing to let L in. That was what the prick wanted, right? For Light to break down and let him in. Give him control. Let his win the game. He wanted it simply because he was L, the world's greatest detective, and L always got what he wanted and what he wanted was to be in complete control of Light.
He wanted to reject Light yet refuse to let him go.
He wanted to love Light and get the love back when he knew perfectly well that Light could never love him back.
Light had no more love to give. It died the day his father died, the day Shiori died, the day Mikami stabbed him and revealed his biggest failure.
L wanted Light to be weak, so he could be strong. That was how the strong always felt strong, by looking down on others.
L was not to be trusted.
No one was.
He hated L.
L was Ryuzaki.
Light was in the entrance hall now.
It was big.
A giant staircase in the middle led to a second floor that Light had forgotten about until now. There was a third floor too… right?
It did not matter. A kitchen was going to be on the ground floor.
Light chose a random hall and began ambling down it, hoping he had chosen right. Floor plans used to be obvious. Now it was a game of chance.
And what luck the luckless man has, that he happens to choose the right hallway and ends up exactly where he needs to be.
The kitchen was large. It was no restaurant kitchen, which he had spent a fair amount of time in working under various aliases to gain intelligence here and there and a mix of other reasons including money needs.
He's worked just about every kind of job there is in the city, all over Tokyo.
Shifting between names and personalities. Never staying too long. Never being remembered after he left for too long. Saying goodbye to so many faces, knowing he'd never likely see them again, and if he did it may mean trouble if they remembered him as someone he no longer was.
In a city so big it still amazed him how many people there were and how easy it was to hide in plain sight.
Now the kitchen he was in…
Compared to the kitchen in his apartment… well his looked like a toothpick compared to a sword. It was so large and well equipped. The pantry was an actual pantry room, opposed to a cabinet with a broken handle hanging over the counter.
And the fridge... it was packed with food, just so much food. It made him think back to a produce street market. But with more organization.
Light was at a loss of what to eat.
All the food in the fridge had to be prepared in some way or eaten raw, and Light doubted he could remember any recipes, let alone be able to locate a knife or a bowl or a plate or even figure out how to work the stove. Was there even a microwave?
Best go for anything…
There was so much food, and he was so hungry.
He picked up a red apple and brought it to his face. It smelled fresh and sweet. He wanted to take a bite. His mouth was watering and he was shivering with anticipation. The apple was so smooth and glossy and red...
So red...
Light gasped and stumbled back, colliding with the island with his back. The apple dropped to the ground and rolled in a wobbly pattern.
Red like blood.
Light was a killer.
Ryuzaki was L.
His appetite disappeared.
He was still starving, but he felt sick to his stomach.
Frustrated, Light picked up a cabbage on the nearest shelf and threw it across the room with force, falling just short of the wall. He grabbed a carrot and did the same, this time hitting a square tile on the wall, but it just bounced off harmlessly, giving him no satisfaction.
He needed to throw something again.
A tomato was his next projectile, and it exploded slightly on impact against the wall and bounced several times on the floor, leaving a juicy blood trail in its wake. He threw another tomato, this time harder and angrier, so it burst, spitting juice and goo-covered seeds all over.
It was beautiful.
All the tomatoes followed until he ran out. Light went back to carrots, snapping a few in half as he went about throwing them for more ammo. The apple came from a bag and he knocked the bag to the floor to join the other. The apples escaped the back and rolled everywhere, bruising all over. He knocked over a flat of eggs to join them. The eggs all cracked and leaked, and without thinking he stomped on them to smash them further, getting yolk and egg whites splattered all around.
Green onions, daikon, salad greens, edamame, ginger. They all were torn from the fridge and thrown or dropped. Milk spilled, heavy cream sloshed, and yogurt splatted.
Shiitake mushrooms were thrown up in the air like confetti.
His actions were driven by a madness he couldn't control.
He did not stick to just the fridge. He ransacked the drawers and cabinets, the shelves and the pantry.
Pots, potatoes, rice and flour. Onions, pans, silverware, chocolate, and garlic. Cereal, plates, and dried pasta.
They were thrown, knocked, and kicked everywhere.
Finally the need to be destructive died and Light sank to the floor, taking in the mess he created around him.
Hi breathing was rapid and his hands shook.
He was at a loss to explain his actions.
Throwing the food did not make him feel any better or worse. Sure it quelled something within him, but he was still hungry yet too sick to eat. Still trapped. Still lost.
Just now the outside world matched a little more closely to the one inside...
It made no sense.
Wallingford found him not long after. He was probably alerted by the noise. There must have been a noise. Security cameras may have been a part in his appearance as well. He showed what Light could tell was genuine concern, but his body language was cautious, as Light knew would be expected in anyone who found a crazy person in kitchen recently destroyed.
He called L using a cellphone saying very little beyond 'kitchen' and 'now' as he approached slowly, as not to startle Light or anything, looking Light over for any obvious injuries. Light just sat on the floor, leaning against the counter like a porcelain doll, watch the old man with a glassy indifference.
He did not bother apologizing because he had no way to explain it.
L arrived eventually and looked over the mess, he approached Light in a very similar manner to the way the old man did, only this time Light moved slightly, turning his head away and mumbling something about being hungry.
Light probably should have felt shame or embarrassment or regret but he just felt empty.
He watched the way L and the old man exchanged looks from the corner of his eye. Their unspoken conversation one of years of knowing each other and predicting what was going through each other's heads as they worked together to solve the problem that was Light.
Because Light was a problem.
And he was hungry.
L closed his arms around Light and helped him stand up. He made as if to carry Light, but a mumbled threat with a declaration that Light could walk on his own lead to him just staying there to provide support.
Knowing he caused enough trouble for the day, Light started walking back to his room, putting much of his weight on L as he found himself to be suspiciously tired and sore, almost to the point where he considered letting himself be carried and done with it.
But that would let L win.
L guided him gently towards the room, as Light forgot which way he came from.
After what seemed like an eternity, which is very well could be, they managed to get to the room, Where L got him back in the bed to be tucked away for another day before he tried again.
Food or something came.
Ryuzaki wasn't real.
Light went to sleep
Light is crazy.
I am crazy.
This is a hard chapter to write, the one that made you guys wait for so long because I was trying to write this chapter first. The dream chapter just came to me in, well, a dream.
But this image of Light… this mind set of Light… He is in my head. He has been in my head for as long as I have been writing this story. Crazy and disoriented.
I'm afraid crazy Light has bled into other characters of mine in stories in my head beyond this one.
Even now I'm not fully happy with this chapter, but it feels done. I hope you guys like it.
Please review! Those inflate my ego and make me feel guilty at the same time and encourage me to write.
And happy holidays! This time I promise to update before Christmas! But remember what I said about my promises.
Raising and dashing hopes is what I do.
I also apparently make people cry, which I am not fully sure is a good or a bad thing.
Did you hear about that circus fire? The heat was in tents.